<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>FebuWhump2021 Day 26: Recovery by startrekkingaroundasgard</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084760">FebuWhump2021 Day 26: Recovery</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard'>startrekkingaroundasgard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FebuWhump2021 [26]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Recovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:20:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning home from being captured and tortured by Cobra, the reader struggles to settle back into their life. They want to move forward but it feels like everyone else is holding them back. They confront Sam and tell him how they really feel.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FebuWhump2021 [26]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>FebuWhump2021 Day 26: Recovery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam set down the knife and smiled. “Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?”</p><p>You nodded even though it was a lie. For the first time in months, it hadn’t been nightmares keeping you awake. It had been him. Sam’s warm body pressed against yours, holding you tightly to his chest. A sweet gesture, never wanting you to wake in the middle of the night and feel alone, but simply too hot and uncomfortable last night.</p><p>Less than an hour after you’d finally drifted off, he’d woken you with sweet kisses on your neck to tell you he was going for a run. Before this, before you’d been taken by Cobra, Sam had never woken you. He just slipped away and would be back for breakfast. But now he told you every move, made sure that you always knew where he’d be and that the same was true for him with you. It was stifling.</p><p>Still, you smiled back and took a seat at the island, watching your boyfriend return to cooking. He was making pancakes again. Once upon a time they’d been your favourite but nothing had quite tasted the same these past few months. You’d rather have had toast or something bland like porridge. Sam was making an effort to get past your trauma, though, and you didn’t want to upset that.</p><p>Conversation was limited, focused mainly on ‘safe’ topics like the sports or a new film at the cinema. Not too soon, silence fell. This was much more comfortable, you thought. Peaceful. Just the ticking of the clock and the sizzling of the pan. But then Sam started to talk again about something or another and you groaned inwardly.</p><p>    “I was thinking,” Sam said, pulling a crate of strawberries out of the fridge. “We should go down to the beach today. Take a walk along the sand like we used to. Watch the seagulls steal ice cream from little kids. Could be fun.”</p><p>    “Or we could hit the gym and train,” you suggested. The doctors had warned you against going to heavy for a few weeks but you needed to work off a little steam. It was starting to feel like you’d traded one prison for another. And, yeah, walking along a beach would be nice but punching the crap out of a sandbag would be better. You needed to start building up your strength if you were ever going to get signed off for field work again.</p><p>Sam hummed as if he was considering the idea but you knew that tone. It meant a firm no. Back to you, flipping a pancake perfectly, he said, “Maybe you should give it another week or two. You don’t want to push your body before it’s properly accepted the new tissue.”</p><p>“Cho signed me off after my last appointment,” you pressed. Why couldn’t he see that this was important? “She said the new tissue was completely integrated now. No chance of tearing.”</p><p>    “Only if you think you’re ready. You don’t have to prove anything.”</p><p>Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a glass and poured yourself some juice. “I’m just bored, Sam.”</p><p>    “That’s why we should leave the house, take a nice trip somewhere and relax.”</p><p>His calm reasoning snapped something inside of you. You couldn’t take this any more. “All I do is relax! Will you please stop treating me like I’m broken? I can handle a little combat training.”</p><p>The muscles in his back tensed beneath his tight t-shirt and you instinctively stumbled back off the stool, turning your cheek to avoid the hit that would never come. You frantically clawed at your neck. Fingers hooked beneath the delicate chain – a gift from Sam – you tore the band away from your skin and watched it fall to the ground.</p><p>Guilty tears prickled your eyes and before you knew what was happening you were on the floor. You buried your head between your knees and stretched your fingers out into the fluffy carpet. You named all of the smells coming from the kitchen – sweet syrup, buttery pancakes, burning toast – and kept counting until your breath evened out.</p><p>The first thing you felt was Sam gently rubbing circles on your back over your favourite fluffy blanket. A bear, short and missing an ear, sat a few feet in front of you, its little smile as genuine as any you could manage nowadays. You pulled it to your chest and breathed in the smell of Sam’s aftershave. Memories of your first date at the fairground brought a warmth to your chest and you squeezed the bear tightly.</p><p>    “I’m sorry.”</p><p>You lifted your head and met Sam’s gaze, so thick with concern that it physically hurt. What we he apologising for? You were to blame here. It was so selfish of you to burden him with your pain, your trauma. He only ever tried to help you, to bring you back out of your shell and readjust to a life of freedom. And how did you repay that kindness? By screaming in his face. Your captors had been right; you didn’t deserve him.</p><p>    “Whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t.” Sam offered out his palm and smiled when you reached out to take it. He covered your with his other and squeezed gently, lifting it up to his face to kiss every finger. “I’ve been treating you like your fragile when you aren’t.”</p><p>    “I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I just – Everyone treats me like I’m broken. They put down their weapons when I enter the room. They try to bring me into every conversation and then walk around on egg shells when discussing missions. Even the cleaners make more noise when they come to do my office because they’re scared of sneaking up on me. I just want to feel normal again.</p><p>    “And then when I saw you tense, I thought… It reminded me of him. Always so calm even as he cut into me. I felt him around my neck and the air squeezing from my lungs. I thought I was back there and I was helpless to stop him. Don’t you see, Sam? That’s why I can’t sit around any more. I need to train. I have to get back in the game or I will always feel like I’m running.”</p><p>Sam sat up straight and for a terrible moment you thought this was it, he’d finally see that you weren’t worth the effort any more. But then he pulled you into his arms and held you tight, squeezed you harder than he had in months and god did it feel nice to be held properly. To be treated like you more than glass about to shatter.</p><p>    “I didn’t know you felt like that. I’m sorry.”</p><p>    “It’s not your fault. I should have said.”</p><p>    “I’m glad you did.” Sam brushed his lips over yours as he pulled back and took your hand, yanked you up to your feet. Hands on your hips, he sat you back on the stool and kissed the top of your head. “Eat your pancakes and I’ll get the equipment set up downstairs. Sound good?”</p><p>You smiled, soft and easy for the first time in months. “Yeah. Sounds great.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>